“Diamonds and Rust”

creative musings [dragon]
“Diamonds and Rust”

Sung by Joan Baez

Post Created by Jennifer Kiley

Post Saturday 21st June 2014

 

When I was a kid I had such a crush on Joan Baez.

A few days before Woodstock, I was able to see her in a LIVE CONCERT at Madison Square Garden in NYC. I stood so close to her while taking her photograph I could almost reach out and touch her. It was a very intimate setting. My seats were fourth row folding chairs right up to the Circle in the Round type stage.

I was planning on seeing her in Woodstock a few days later.

The experience of driving to the Woodstock Rock Festival in the rain and running into a four lane parking lot on a two way road about a 1/2 mile from the field sinking into mud was insane and mystical.

As we walked to Yasgur’s Farm, the air was filled with the deliciously sweet smell of marijuana. Water cost a $ dollar a glass. It was an experience to remember. No one knew Woodstock would be so creatively insane.

Never did get to see Joan Baez perform there.

I was with my younger brother who began flipping out. In order to take care of him I needed to leave.

I was touched by Woodstock and never went back to who I was before that moment. It was the beginning of my transformation. A new life started that wonderfully crazy and bizarre weekend. It was the beginning of the total downfall of authority inside my head.

A Great Start and I also had the influences of Joan Baez to guide me.  ♥  Jennifer Kiley

Joan Baez - Diamonds and Rust – LIVE 1975

DIAMONDS AND RUST
Words and Music by Joan Baez

Well I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that’s not unusual
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I’d known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin’s eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Ten years ago
I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you’re smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you’re telling me
You’re not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It’s all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust
I’ve already paid

© 1975 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

moonlight and sleleton trees (alter)

*             *       *       *       *       *

Private Moments #66 – “Too Often It’s Goodbye”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #66
Poem “Too Often It’s Goodbye”

by Jennifer Kiley
Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #66
“Hello Goodbye”
Painting “What Can One Do?”

by Jk McCormack
Post Monday 16th June 2014
 

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

what can you do - jk mccormack (c) jkm 2014

“What Can One Do?” - jk mccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Too Often It’s Goodbye”
By Madison Taylor
9th December 2008

Too often it’s goodbye
No real explanation
Contemplation of excuses
Absence without relief
Alone again
No solace will be given

Choosing uncertainty
Over familiarity
Exciting as a prospect
But when it ends
Empty promises fill
The wandering thoughts

Smashed glasses
Thrown against
A cupboard door
When answers come
In violent retribution
Never a reason

Freeing one’s conscience
From responsibility
Unwarranted actions
Acted out through the shame
It stabs unjustly
Exacting the most pain

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif


“Every Rose Has Its Thorn” - Rock of Ages

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red heart outline with pale blue bg

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

Private Moments #64 – “Get Out of My Head”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #64: “Get Out of My Head
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
For Private Writings: Chapter #64 - “Get It Out of My Head”

PaintingHeart Spirals” by Jk McCormack
Post Monday 2nd June 2014

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

heart spirals - jk mccormack (c) jkm 2014

Heart Spirals - Jk McCormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Get Out of My Head”
By Madison Taylor
25th November 2008

Get out of my head
You’re invading my space
Don’t like people
Getting up in my face
It’s a disgrace
To be so blown away
While life treats the delicate
Like they’re a disease
No sympathy please

People starving
Some living in peace
Excess food remaining
Governments complaining
Where’s the human generosity
When all could partake
In the grandest feast
If the world learned sharing
Hope ain’t filled with caring
We’re keenly in need of serenity
So Peace will abound

I feel the pressure’s back inside my head
Seeing how futility feeds the rage
Depending on “them”
The strangers of kindness”
Not knowing who’s giving
Wanting to believe in Hope
Where there is none
Smile when all I see is sadness

Death waits patiently
So we need overwhelmingly
To believe the darkness will fade
And the light will find its way

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Until - by James Conlee

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

*        *         *        *        *        *        *

Private Moments #59: “Don’t Lose It Now”

private moments in paintings & poetry
Private Moments #59: “Don’t Lose It  Now”
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Posted On Monday 28th April 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS INSIDE PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #59 — It’s the Only Picture I Have

forest green shadows (c) Jkm 2014

“Primordial Beginnings of IT ‘Good Vs Evil’ Against Life After Death” (c) jkm 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

“don’t lose IT now”
poem by madison taylor
21st october 2008

seeing all
in a moment
IT now disappears

never again
no repairs
IT effects what remains

into the whole
IT assimilates
one entity
aware of infinity

IT remembers
IT is
the only one

of the multiplicity
IT is
in one whole

controlling
every action
and reaction

in the infinite
space beyond time
as universes expand

IT is Alive
IT is an Anomaly
IT has a Propensity for Quirkiness
a singularity for peculiar Uniqueness

IT has transcended
no return requested

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

“Love Takes Over” – Kelly Rowland – Created by David Guetta

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #50: Fated Attraction

private moments in paintings & poetry
Fated Attraction
Private Moments #50
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 10th February 2014
Posted On Monday 24th February 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #50 — Fated Attraction

Innocence Abandoned - Artist MTaylor (c) jKm 2008

Innocence Abandoned – Artist MTaylor (c) jKm 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

Fated Attraction
By Madison Taylor
19th August 2008

Fated attraction
Confusing reaction
To a retraction
Of loving contraction

Voices I hear now
Speak your name clear now
The word is you love me
It’s something you can’t see

One day when you wake up
You’ll see what was once ours
Possibilities of pure love
Beyond time this love endures

Have you really left me?
Leaving unfinished memories
The pain I’ve been feeling undeniably true
I live now in my nightmare without you

© MTaylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #49: Too High On Love

private moments in paintings & poetry
Too High On Love
Private Moments #49
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 7th February 2014
Posted On Monday 17th February 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #49 — Got To Get You Into My Life

'safely dangerous' by madison taylor (c) mtaylor 2008

‘Safely Dangerous’ by Madison Taylor (c) MTaylor 2008

hands reaching out into rain

Too High On Love
by Madison Taylor
8th July 2008

Too high on love
Go smashing
Feel the pounding

Trusting hearts
Drawing closer
Time expanding

Arms covering
Warmth spiraling
Blood arousing

Bodies combining
Spirits crying
High waves surging

Minds touching
Mouths whispering
Fires smoldering

Out of minds
Fantasies flying
Not disturbing

Curiosity soaring
Censors flat-lining
Eliminates controlling

Flesh melting
Skin glowing
Bliss achieving

Too high on love
Climb higher
Depths are expanding

Awaiting the closing

© MTaylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #48: Never Home Again

Editor’s Corner finished its course last week on Monday 3rd February. It is available as a resource in an archive. Click HERE to go to the Editor’s Corner Archive on Shawn MacKenzie’s MacKenzie’s Dragonsnest. In the Editor’s Corner’s spot, starting today, I am using Monday to present the Poem, Painting and Music that accompany my weekly Chapter from Private Writings, Posted on Tuesdays on ‘the secret keeper.’ Hope you enjoy both. The Archives for Past Chapters are just above on the Page ‘PRIVATE WRITINGS ARCHIVE.’ JkM the secret keeper

private moments in paintings & poetry
Never Home Again
Private Moments: #48
Painting by Jk McCormack
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created 19th January 2014
Posted On Monday 10th February 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY
Private Writings: Chapter #48 — Where You Once Belonged

Streaking - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

Streaking – Artist Madison Taylor (c) madison taylor 2007

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

Flashing Sparks
Poem by Madison Taylor
5th August 2008

Flashing sparks
In lost memories
Quickening dreams
Following sightings
Of lost time

Hands touching flesh
Feelings wash over
The body outside
Of consciousness
Floating endlessly

Ceilings found close
Eyes looking down
Outside is cold
Uncovered frame
Asleep alone

One exception
No one has a face
Is with the child
Dreaming nightmares
Inside dark shadows

Hovering above
Watching evil
Action taken
To know the inside
Entry forced

Within sounds
Movement starting
Sensations building
Complications unknown
Dying within

Nights stolen
Anticipation
Safety waiting
Music playing
Retrieving silence

Sparks flashing
Editing thoughts
Organizing order
Lighting truth
Chasing out death

© madison taylor 2007

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer
into the private moments
of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

Anais Nin Speaking of June

a writer's word - day title sunday

Anais Nin Speaking of June
Created by Jk the secret keeper
Transposed by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created on Wednesday 18th December 2013
Posted on Sunday 22nd December 2013
A WRITER’S WORD

Anais Nin

Anais Nin

Anaïs Nin
Speaking of June

“Don’t think
that when
I talk
so much
about beauty
and poetry
in relation
to June

That I am
merely trying
to romanticize,

To make it all
appear innocent
and ideal.

I am
only trying
to describe
feelings
which
are not
simple
to describe.

For you
the sexual act
is everything.

But sometimes
the senses
can make
a great
deal
of the
mere touch
of a
hand.”

…Men
who knew me
made flippant
remarks
about wanting
to sleep
with me.

June
stopped them
in an
angry way

Which
revealed
her love
of me.

As
if
I
were
sacred.

Waterhouse NarcissusNarcissus – Artist John William Waterhouse

Private Writings: Chapter #33 — They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings — Chapter #33: They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 5th November 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell, psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
my choice in form of storytelling is using letters with dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, describing my scripts, recent one ‘brief sacrifice,’ film is waiting for release,
psychotherapy, psychoanalysis, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner & outer workings
of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar—prefer mentally creative, or interesting,
or a brain misfiring; in the mix are abuse, crashes, near drownings, illegal drugs presently,
hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, the never ending need to discover my self, my soul, my eternal serenity, my bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings — Chapter #33: They Shoot Movies, Don’t They?

Tuesday, 29th April 2008

Dear Annie,

You want to know how I met Hunter Marx. It was one of Scottie’s wild industry parties. Anyone who was anyone was invited. And our casting director was asked to invite potential actors of both sexes, who might be right for the roles in my new screenplay. This was back on 2000. I wasn’t wary of this party. In fact, I welcomed it.

It was when I first saw Hunter. She was sitting motionless across the room. I watched her for a while. She was strikingly sensual. Her mystique resonated with me. My feelings told me she was different. I believed in my first impression, which I felt was positive. I trusted it. I was greatly mistaken. Now she haunts me. She gets inside my mind. What once I thought was the beginning, of something special turned into a nightmare. The feelings of closeness we shared disappeared. She was a mirage. What I felt existed was smoke and mirrors, signifying nothing.

I was working on the script tonight and now, the pages are filled with memories of times spent with Hunter. If she could only know what she did to my life, what she made me feel. I cannot believe she wanted me to be so tortured. Coming back into our lives, knowing how she ended it. When I listen to what was our song “Come What May,” from Moulin Rouge. The line that kills me, “I will love you til my dying day.” I still feel her arms holding me. Her eyes looking into mine, mine searching deeper into hers. I missed her so much, simply because I loved her, even after she deserted me.

I was nearly destroyed until I realized exactly what she had done. I was used by her and what I felt meant nothing to her. Her desires were to get close to Scottie and I gave her my blessing to steal everything that was mine. From the beginning, her mind was set on the role. Seducing me, the gullible writer, would convince Scottie to give Hunter Marx the part. Scottie was the wise one, she didn’t want Hunter. Because of me, she did get the lead in our film, anyway. That was her goal, at any cost, She never wanted me, my friendship, my love, but a role I created and the bitch is it made her. Now she gets anything she wants. She fucked with me to get my character that I created. It made her famous and what she is today. A bitch who gets what’s coming to her.

And now she is back. Scottie cast her in my new screenplay, “Touch of the Spirit.” I begged Scottie not to cast Hunter. She just didn’t understand back then or now, why I didn’t want her near either one of us, then or now. Poison, not blood ran in her veins, and a touch of evil lingered around her soul.

Scottie knew I had a crush on Hunter. I was always flirting with the women in our films. Nothing meant to go anywhere. It fed my muse. But with Hunter, the strength of the feelings she brought up inside me, I never expected her to have such a magnetic draw on me. I think I became a touch obsessed, which scared the shit out of me. My attractions didn’t bother Scottie. She knew I was innocent. Scottie always worried I would be hurt but she knew they were an inspiration for my muse. My muse loved the feelings the flirtations created, even if they were innocent with no intent on action. Hunter didn’t understand the rules. She was relentless with her intentions and they were not honest.

A strong physical attraction developed with Hunter. Stronger than anything I had felt in a long time. It was in early 2001, when Scottie finally decided she was going to cast Hunter Marx for their first film together. Hunter’s first major film as the lead. It was still an innocent enough time in the world before the impending insanity that descended and overwhelmed the world.

I did have someone to turn to when I needed to talk outside of therapy. Jonathan Stephens was my long-distance friend. We started chatting years before that time. It was primitive compared to having Skype now, which we both converted to. Chat rooms were weird and I never felt really comfortable using them. But after finding Jonathan, it became okay. With Skype, though, we can hear each other’s voice. Jonathan lives in Paris and has a flat in London. An artist by trade, doing mostly painting, but occasionally, enjoys writing, jumping around in various areas, from poetry to prose, to opinion commentary. It all supplements his income, to that of being an internationally known artist with a strong following. Exhibitions, selling his work on both sides of the Atlantic, Collectors follow him around the world. And then those who buy his art because they love his work and to have the pure pleasure of hanging a painting of Jonathan Stephens on their walls. Those are the people he absolutely adores. Yes, he makes a good living from the collectors, but to them he is not an artist but an investment. If he could, he would refuse them any pieces of his work.

I love what Jonathan paints. His art is predominantly in Abstract, which is my favorite style. My favorite artists after Jonathan are Jackson Pollock, Kandinsky, Vincent van Gogh and a great Monet. Claude, of course. I must say I use to get Monet mixed up with Manet, not because of their art but their names being so similar. I was young and more naive then.

Jonathan knows every detail about Hunter. All the excruciating pain she caused me to feel and the whys. I even told him how she seduced me and made me hide my feelings for her in front of other people. Also, my hidden pleasure, mixed together with confusion, huge amounts of emotional anguish, and her convincing me I was delusional. That I had imagined everything that went on between us. She denied we ever had a relationship. That is why Scottie thought I made the whole thing up about Hunter using me.

Jonathan was the only person who knew the truth. How my soul was filled with joy from the kindness and love Hunter showed me. I felt it was real. It only demonstrated to me the evil content of Hunter’s soul. The treachery and manipulation that surfaced after it was over. Her coldness set in and froze me out. All I could feel was total loss and abandonment. I told every minute detail to Jonathan. My witness to what Hunter did and how it made me feel crazy. The Bipolar mood swings flying me higher and lower. Her presence in my life practically destroyed everything inside of me.

This was the beginning, when the agoraphobia made its strategic hit and thoroughly immobilized my life. Between Scottie, Jonathan and a therapist I saw for a short time. A long story, but the short version, she couldn’t handle the combination of pot and lesbians and a gay man all at one time. She had some kind of cleansing conversions during the therapy sessions. Plus she had to make house calls. It freaked her out being in a lesbian couple’s house all alone. She may have thought or felt being around us lesbians and Jonathan’s gay image on a computer screen was far too contagious. We paid her a small fortune, so it wasn’t the money. Well, after her, there entered Dr. George. We all know how that turned out. Of course, at first, I thought he had an open mind and was a relatively good Psychotherapist. He got me out of the house again, sort of, I would, at least, go to his office.

Tomorrow is Scottie’s wild cast party, before heading over the France. I am still really nervous about the flying. But, at least, I got some of my anxiety out on paper about Hunter. Our first head to head will be at the party. Oh, give me strength. I don’t ever watch her films. I would close my eyes during her scenes in my screenplay. I, so, did not want to see her. I don’t know what I am going to do if I react badly to seeing her near Scottie. And what if she tries to say anything to me? What then?

I promise I will behave and bring this letter to you next week, our last session before flying to Paris. It is going to be hard to go, more because I’ll miss you. I know we are going to be doing Skype sessions and you will make sure I have all the scheduled appointment times for the whole month I am away. That is a really long time. I will write to you. It will center me. And I finally will be in the same city as Jonathan. You may wonder why we have never met in person before now. I will explain that when I see you next week.

I am exhausted and need to stop, Writing about Hunter has really messed with my brain.

Thank you for listening and being there. I already miss you.

I will keep you in the loop in the new film and I promise to catch you up more on “Brief Sacrifice” in my next letter. Too much is going on right now to think about it. I will leave you a quote from my last letter to hold you.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I will end this letter in the moment of now.

Fondly,
Madison

© madison taylor 2008

Finale Moulin Rouge I Will Love You Til Our Dying Day

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

red_flower_garden poppy field sunrise  pwRed Flower Poppy Field at Sunrise

rain in garden gif

Heart Break
Thrice Haiku
By Madison Taylor
6th May 2008

Heart break broke in two
Repairs are like Frankenstein’s
Stitching strings will pass on death

Electric circuits
Strikes lightning’s power preferred
Surging force toward love’s purpose

Awakens beauty
Life less in silence ending
Kissing’s spark brings breathes return

© madison taylor 2008

the red dragon black fire abstract robert-r  pwThe Red Dragon — Artist Robert R.

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

jonathan stephens imaginary framedJonathan Stephens is Madison Taylor’s friend in Paris, France. 1st time meeting. Skype.

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

actresses-with-long-hair-hairstyle frenchHunter Marx [taken 7 years ago in 2001 year Hunter & Madison met]

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #26 — Wizardry of Id

private writings by jennifer kileyPrivate Writings: Chapter #26 — Wizardry of Id
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 17th September 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script ‘Brief Sacrifice,’ already made into a film but not yet released, psychotherapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes, near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
— Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #26 — Wizardry of Id

Tuesday 18th March 2008

Dear Annie,

I have been feeling like I am close to the edge. Shortly, after leaving our session, remembering what we talked about triggered an awful reaction inside of me. My psyche is in a full blown depression. Talking about Dr. George, feeling like he was raping me, making me have to be in a room with him again. He forced me. If I didn’t I would have lost you before I even had a chance to find you. He had no right to dangle you as a piece of candy. I submit and get raped. I say no, I lose you. How is that acceptable for a therapist to repeat my abuse on me so I will get the attention I need so badly. Why did you let him do that? Now I feel suicidal. The darkness is surrounding me. It feels like the shadow creatures in “Ghost.” They are going to pull me into Hell. Any moment I am going to be forced to kill myself.

You should have stopped him. Never agreed to his terms. Just accepted me and told him to go fuck off. I didn’t deserve to be forced, when I already made it clear I didn’t want to do what he wanted. How should I feel? How can I react any differently? Now, I am having my doubts. Are you going to protect me from my nightmares? Keep them away from my dreams? I have imagined being with you, doing therapy the right way for so long. I never thought you would be part of terms from him in order for me to be with you. Should I be disappointed or feel lucky? I got my dream therapist. Or so it seems.

You did protect me in the closure session, but I shouldn’t have had to be there. It made me furious. I felt you held me inside your power. You threw up a protective shield. I felt it. But he was there, too close, so creepy. I couldn’t look at him. My skin crawled. He was looking at me firing off lies. Just like my shadow mother did many years ago.

When I was a teenager. She came to one of my sessions with my first therapist. In front of me, she spoke words coated with black tar. All lies. Professed she had no idea what I was talking about when I said I was tortured by her. She denied ever doing anything to me. At that point, I wasn’t about to tell her about my other abusers. It was sufficient to try to confront her with my therapist to protect me. In the last moments of her presence in my therapist’s office, I just lost it. I couldn’t stand hearing the lies for a minute longer. I fired off at her a list which grew in my head since I was little, of all the abuses she committed on my flesh, my mind, my emotions. I had to cut myself off. It was a painting without a canvas to record the truth. She shook her head in denial. Making it seem to my therapist I was making the whole tale up in my imagination.

After my therapist returned from escorting her back to the waiting area, she took a seat at her desk and looked at me. All I could say to her was I am not crazy. I wasn’t lying. Her response: “Your mother is crazy. Of course, I believe you. She was lying or had buried what she had done so deep, she believed her lies. It is quite possible if she had remembered her abusing you in the horrible way she did, it would literally drive her over the edge into complete madness. It is enough she is borderline, with one step inside of madness.”

Her words reassured me I was actually sane. She told me if I was going to “lose my mind,” it would have happened while I was doing all the LSD and smoking pot. I did have grand hallucinations and moments when I thought I had lost touch with reality. LSD really can make you feel paranoid. What the fuck I was thinking, doing hallucinogens. I put them into my body. I will stop short at doing mushrooms. They are a spiritual experience. I read the whole “Bhagavad Gita” while tripping. Whoa, that books takes you to such heights of deep awareness. I felt Bliss. True Bliss. That was a worthy experience.

Annie, writing to you or just writing has made me feel a bit better. Why do people fuck with other people’s minds and lives?

I think I am freaking a little because I told you today about my letters and poems. They have been my secret for so long. Revealing I wrote to you made me feel too vulnerable. You want me to bring them to my sessions and to read you some of what I write, especially the poems. You, also, liked I was telling you the story from my script for Scottie and my film “Brief Sacrifice.” The idea of a secret society guarding Nikola Tesla’s secrets. The thought of a perfect Utopia. If anyone could pull off setting up something so grand “Tesla” could. I didn’t tell you what is in the Silver Box. I am not sure I should reveal the secret. It would ruin the mystery of the film.

It is such a cool secret. I will give you a hint. “Anywhere is possible, as long as it has happened already, somewhere in time.”

Can you guess from this clue?

I think I will write my poem for you. See if I can shake the rest of these feelings of the shadows surrounding me. Wanting to do harm to me or wanting me to do harm to myself.

I want you to know I want to trust you. What you did with him, felt like a betrayal. You conspired to force me to give in against my will and better judgement. I am not sure it will be easy for me to get past it. We need to work on not forcing me into something I don’t want to do. When I say “No,” I need to be respected. Words meant nothing to my abusers, especially the words, “NO” and “STOP.”

I am going to close the letter portion here and continue on to write my feelings into a poem. Maybe, I will better express what is happening inside my mind and heart, I do have strong feelings building up and putting pressure on my psyche. You are my wizard now. You must help me understand myself. Why I am unable to let go of my feelings, what am I feeling, and what the hell drives me. The highest concern in my head is why I cannot enjoy anything that would bring pleasure to anyone else.

Wish me luck on writing a poem for you, Annie. If it is going to be my first, I want you to see inside of me.

I am signing out on my letter to you.

Fondly,
Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

lily open pink purple mix

rain in garden gif

Of Highest Concern
By Madison Taylor
18th March 2008

Intruder thrusts knife
Pressure pierces deep in flesh
Sensations of pain spreading

Bleeding stills body
Force penetrates privacy
Ripping away self-control

Will overpowers
Trembling from intensity
Inner strength halts invasion

© madison taylor 2008

rookie wood  2013  artist paul wood

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

bedroom perfect high windows light

play is not just play meryl streep